


how strange it is to be anything at all

by celestialfics



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cold Weather, First Meetings, M/M, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 03:58:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13872630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialfics/pseuds/celestialfics
Summary: There is a chime, a soft golden glow, and then nothing.And then…everything.





	how strange it is to be anything at all

**Author's Note:**

> hHHGH hi  
> ive nvr written overwatch before but! i love genyatta!  
> im sure there's probably a billion fics about this same thing but... here's my take <3  
> hope u enjoyy!

Genji, in all his time on Earth, has never once felt particularly at home. He’s  _had_ homes, many of them—so many it hardly is worth it to count them. But still, he does count them and tuck them away like worn photographs in the pockets of his mind: the residence of his childhood and adolescence, the room just above most frequent gambling spot, Angela’s operating room for  _too_ long, his bunker in Blackwatch, and since… both everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Life has been such—wandering, thinking, _hating_ —for as long as Genji cares to think about, because thinking back more than a few years is more painful than anything. Thinking back to blood and sticky warmth and deep, unreserved hatred—

He shakes his head. It's cold here, and frost clings to Genji's green visor. He redirects heat to it the way one would turn on defrost in a vehicle, and his shoulders tense. He pulls his hooded cloak closer to him, but the cold still seeps into his machinery and into the very marrow of his being, not that it hasn't been cold there already for years.

A light snow falls, accumulating in a thin sheet over Genji's shoulders and head. He could melt it, if he cared enough to let off heat. But it stays.

He doesn't know where he's headed, nor where he will stay for the night. When has he ever? He shall come across an old shelter, or tree with particularly thick foliage, and he will perhaps take a moment to sit. To sleep—only when he can no longer lift his eyelids.

The time between Genji's rests—his real, true sleeps—is ever growing. Since his procedure at the hands of Angela, sleep has become more of a luxury than a necessity. Weapons do not need sleep, and as far as Genji is concerned, that's all he is. The necessary parts of him, the pistons and axles and wires, do not need sleep. So why should he?

He fails to notice—or perhaps, he pretends not to notice—the fatigue behind his eyes, the fog in his mind, the ache in his heart. When has it ever, ever mattered? His feet trek through the shallow snow, and a phantom numb coldness where he used to have toes dances across his thoughts.

It's been days since Genji has come across another being, so when he hears the lightest rustle from behind him, he immediately spins around, hand just barely grazing the hilt of his weapon. He freezes in the position upon sight of an omnic only a few meters from him, almost ashamed someone could get so close. One of his fingers twitches against his weapon.

The omnic raises his hands in one solid movement, palms facing towards Genji, a display of vulnerability. Genji makes no move. He doesn't feel particularly threatened by the slightly roughed up omnic, but he has long learned what happens when he lets his guard down.

To Genji's bewilderment, the omnic spreads his fingers into Vs, two fingers on each side. He says, "I come in peace." Then, he laughs, mechanical and light. One of his feet kicks out in amusement.

Genji blinks. His hand drops from the weapon.

"I hope you did not mind that joke to lighten the mood," the omnic says, lowering his hands back to in front of his chest. His fingertips press together. "I do not favor the idea of my limbs being sliced off so hastily, after all."

Continuing to stare, Genji lets his fingers curl into his palm. "What do you want?" he asks, accusatory. "You have obviously been following me. Do you wish to—"

"I wish for nothing," the omnic replies. "I have not followed you, but our paths seem to have coincided."

Genji's teeth bare under his mask, and though the omnic cannot see, he still recoils ever so slightly. A spike in his aura, perhaps. He's never been good at controlling himself.

Still, though, the omnic continues. "Do you know where you are heading, traveler?"

For a moment, Genji ponders remaining silent. Instead, he barks, "Why should I tell you?"

The omnic cocks his head. "I was simply asking, since you are heading towards the Shambali monastery."

Genji feels a morsel of embarrassment for snapping, but it passes within a second.

"I was unaware," he admits, and he realizes his legs are still spread into a battle stance. He stands up straight and lets his arms hang at his sides.

"Perhaps you will accompany me there?" the omnic suggests as if it's the most natural thing in the world. Genji, again, stares, but the omnic waits patiently for an answer, swaying slightly in his hovering position.

"I don't believe that is wise," Genji returns, turning his head to the side to look away from the omnic.

"Do you not?" he inquires.

This time, Genji remains silent.

"Then, may our paths continue to coincide, traveler."

With this, the omnic starts forward, closer to Genji. Genji swallows thickly and lets the omnic pass him, watching the orbs that float around him ding and chime.

The omnic seems to possess no doubts that Genji will follow, though Genji keeps his feet planted in place. He furrows his eyebrows as the omnic continues onward, not loitering nor sending a glance back in Genji's direction.

Impulsive and frustrated, Genji begins to stalk on in the same direction as the omnic. They continue paces and paces apart, but still, somehow, together. Genji doesn't truly understand why he proceeds in this direction, why he feels a slight, delicate pull.

He has an urge to sever it, to take a step off the invisible path the omnic has carved before him. So easily he could sever it and be off on his way towards nowhere again. Perhaps the idea of having a destination keeps him onward.

The journey is full of climbs and descents, though the pair maintain the space between them. When the omnic reaches the top of what must be the last uphill stretch, he stops. He does not turn back to look at Genji, though Genji is certain that he knows he's there. He ponders for a moment if he should catch up or drop out now, before he gets into something he knows he doesn't want to get into. He doesn't know why he's come this far.

He stops in place, gaze fixed on the omnic at the top of the mountain. The sun sets over the peak, illuminating the robotic figure in golden light. The silhouette burns into Genji's eyes, and he takes another step forward.

When Genji reaches the summit, the omnic turns to look at him. “You do not trust your own judgment?” he inquires, and when Genji does not respond, he elaborates, “You had said coming along would not be wise.”

“I know what I said,” Genji replies. He doesn’t face the omnic; instead, he looks down at the village that spans along the mountainside below them.

The omnic makes a clicking sound and lowers to sit on the ground. He pats the snow beside him, and Genji looks over but does not move. His hands clench into fists at his sides. What is this?

“Very well,” the omnic speaks. “I am called Zenyatta. And who are you, weary traveler?”

“You don’t need to know,” Genji responds. “You won’t ever see me again.”

“Very well,” Zenyatta repeats, “If that is truly how you feel.”

There is a slight pause.

“Genji,” Genji speaks without a second thought, and then swallows thickly. He hadn’t meant to—

“It is a pleasure to have coincided paths with you, Genji,” Zenyatta says. He tilts his head upwards to look at Genji, and Genji’s head jerks to look away. “It is just about to get dark. Shall our evenings coexist as well?”

Genji, despite the nipping coldness of the air, feels a twinge of warmth in his chest. He wills himself to crush it in an instant. “No,” he responds firmly. “There is no place for me there.”  _Or anywhere_.

“There are many places for travelers to stay,” Zenyatta says, but his words seemingly fall on deaf ears.

Genji stares off, the sun steadily dipping beneath the horizon.

"You must have followed me this far for a reason," Zenyatta continues, knowing somehow that Genji is still listening even if he looks unresponsive, "Though, I presume you do not know what that reason is."

Swallowing thickly, Genji looks down from the sunset and to his feet. They press down to form divots into the snow. He shifts on them.

"Everything does come with time, Genji," Zenyatta continues. "I implore you to take your time to think, though I may suggest that thinking indoors is more comfortable than sitting on a mountain in the snow."

Still, Genji does not speak back to him. He dares to glance down at him once, but it makes his mouth dry. He kicks at the snow with his right foot and then turns away from Zenyatta, looking back over his shoulder to say, "Keep your advice to yourself."

Zenyatta is silent. And so, Genji goes off on his own once again.

—

Genji is not away from Zenyatta long enough to forget about him. In fact, the very next day, Genji stands from the tree he'd been leaning against as a makeshift shelter from the wind, his cloak draped over his front, and he begins to roll his shoulder back when he freezes at the sight of a familiar omnic a little ways away, facing away from Genji.

Immediately, he looks for a way out. It's impossible for him to escape without making noise—his footsteps may be light, trained that way, but snow is not Genji's ally.

Zenyatta begins to turn around, and Genji's eyes dart around—an escape, anywhere—but when Zenyatta spots him, Genji is still frozen in place.

"Ah, Genji! You have not gone far," Zenyatta comments, though he does not approach.

Genji bristles. "You're following me," he accuses through clenched teeth.

Zenyatta hesitates for a moment, but then says, "This time, I cannot deny it."

"What do you want?" he repeats the sentiment from the day prior.

"To tell the truth, I am curious," Zenyatta answers. One of the orbs around his neck dings quietly, and Genji can just barely hear it.

"Don't expect me to sate your curiosity," Genji growls back, fastening his cloak over his shoulders. He's sure the roughed up cloak is completely ill-fitting of him, not complementary to his hi-tech makeup in any way, which likely fuels Zenyatta's curiosity more.

"I have no expectations of you, Genji. You have proved yourself to be quite unpredictable even in our short acquaintance." Zenyatta's voice, though metallic and mechanical, has a tone in it which, even if only slightly, causes Genji to lean towards him, entranced.

He catches himself leaning towards the omnic and stops, straightening his stance again. Beneath his face plate, his skin feels hot. He swallows harshly and stares at Zenyatta.

They're silent, looking at each other. Genji knows not what to say or how, only that he feels hooked in the moment. Zenyatta tilts his head.

"There is much turmoil within you, traveler," Zenyatta speaks. "You do not allow yourself to—" He breaks off suddenly. "Pardon me, I shall not make assumptions."

"No," Genji blurts without thinking, "No, say it."

Zenyatta intertwines his fingers before him, and he approaches Genji, very slightly. "You do not allow yourself the company of others. Excuse me if I am incorrect, but you have isolated yourself for so long. Genji, why is that? Why must you be alone?"

Genji feels unbelievably vulnerable, even beneath his metal exterior. Zenyatta sees past this, past everything. Genji jerks his head to the side suddenly, "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" Zenyatta questions. His hands sink down into his lap.

Fist clenching at his side, Genji tries to shake the vulnerable feeling. He's known Zenyatta for less than a day—but no one has made him feel this way in years.

"Get away from me," Genji states, throat tight.

Zenyatta falters, but says, "I would oblige if I believed that was actually what you desired."

He resists his immediate urge to snap,  _What do you know?_ , because something about the way Zenyatta speaks, about the way he approaches Genji, about his entire countenance, tells Genji that he  _does_ know, somehow.

"What do you want me to say?" Genji replies, voice more lax. He forces himself to even his breathing. In and out, in and out.

Genji wholeheartedly expects Zenyatta to say something akin to that he wants nothing from Genji except what Genji wants for himself, but against his thoughts, Zenyatta does not speak for some time.

When he does, he says, "Tell me, what tears at you so?"

But Genji has always, always been stubborn. Despite how he feels in this moment, this feeling he cannot even think to name since he has not felt it in so long, he still feels a wave of animosity over it.

"That is for myself to know," he hisses. "It is not for me to reveal to someone I haven't known for even a day."

As Genji begins to again turn away from Zenyatta, the omnic comments, "Time is but a tool used for convenience. When it is not convenient, what is the point? A day may seem a short span of time, but there is no use in waiting and pushing off help by cause of formality."

"I never asked for your help," Genji retorts.

"Yes, that is true," Zenyatta admits, "I apologize for any unwanted attention I have given you, Genji. I will leave you be if you tell me once more to leave."

It would be so easy to just tell Zenyatta to "Go," but Genji's mouth does not open. Zenyatta has read him so completely, and so quickly, and so easily—all when he's thought he had constructed sturdy barriers around himself.

He should be frustrated, angry; it should be so  _easy_  to tell Zenyatta to leave. So why can't he?

Genji stays silent, and Zenyatta says quietly, "I understand."

They sit in the woods together for some time after that, neither speaking. Genji rummages through his mind, tearing through cobwebs to get to places he has not considered for years.

Genji has only known Zenyatta for a day. But what is a day? It is nothing substantial, nor insubstantial. It simply  _is_. And if Zenyatta is able to make Genji feel heard, understood,  _trusted_ —then what should Genji care if it's only been a day?

The time spent here passes fluidly, like water rushing over rocks that have been smoothed by the constant flow. What is a day compared to this? Genji feels years in his blood, seconds behind his eyes. Zenyatta… he is something else. Genji is unsure what to think, what to feel, what to  _do_.

When night approaches, Zenyatta again offers for Genji to stay with him in the village. He does not give a response, even though Zenyatta waits and waits for one.

Zenyatta eventually nods, a nonverbal _I understand_ , and he begins to leave.

Always impulsive, Genji suddenly speaks, catching Zenyatta's attention before he goes: "Will I see you tomorrow?"

If Zenyatta could smile, Genji thinks that he would be.

"I will surely find you again if you so request, Genji."

—

Zenyatta becomes a fixture in Genji’s life, albeit somewhat reluctantly on Genji’s part. He’s been so used to pushing everyone away,  _everything_ away—including warmth and comfort and care. But Zenyatta, he is extremely careful with Genji, despite Genji’s rough exterior and thorny interior.

Several times, Zenyatta has been pricked by the thorns. Genji growls at him, yells at him, stalks away from him if he gets too close.

He always, always regrets it. He always, always comes back.

Despite everything, Zenyatta persists. He speaks in soft tones and asks careful questions, stepping back when he senses he’s about to go too far.

And Genji… he appreciates it. He doesn’t know that there’s a thing he’s done in this life to deserve Zenyatta’s company, but with time, he softens. Zenyatta whittles at his thorns without Genji even realizing it, until they’re nothing more than harmless.

“Genji,” Zenyatta speaks after an afternoon of relative silence—Genji had requested so. Just sitting with Zenyatta helps him to think, helps him to breathe. “Will you reconsider my invitation to stay at the village? I have resisted asking you until now since I believed it would be unwelcome to you.”

Genji, who had had his eyes closed, opens them to observe Zenyatta. They sit opposite of each other in the snow, Zenyatta’s legs crossed under him and Genji with his legs stretched before him, hands pressing into the snow behind him as he leans on them.

A part of him that is being driven out but still clings stubbornly to his core tells him to immediately decline, but he resists it. It’s being driven out for a reason.

Instead, he says, “You are certain I am welcome there?”

“You have always been welcome there by others, Genji,” Zenyatta responds. “What matters is that you are welcome by yourself.”

Genji stares. "Okay," he says.

"You will come?"

Maybe Genji imagines it, but there seems to be a tone of surprise in Zenyatta's voice. Nonetheless, he nods.

At this, Zenyatta rises up and offers a hand to Genji to help him up as well. Genji looks at his hand, thinks about how he would have reacted to this even a week ago, and he takes the hand in his own, heaving himself up.

As he stands, he feels a new wave of energy—he has made a decision he knows will shape the rest of his life, his entire being. How he knows this immediately is uncertain, but he feels it, and his hand lingers in Zenyatta's for an extra moment before he lets it slip away.

They head back to the village together, traveling side by side.

—

Genji, in all his time on Earth, has never once felt particularly at home. But now, here in Nepal, here with Zenyatta… he thinks it’s possible.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/ambvlence) | [tumblr](http://ambvlence.tumblr.com/)
> 
> thanks for reading! <3


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